


The Sea May Carry Us

by DryWavelength



Category: Soul Eater
Genre: Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Multi, Other, but like super duper late, reverb, reverb 2018
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-21
Updated: 2018-09-27
Packaged: 2019-06-14 04:07:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15380301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DryWavelength/pseuds/DryWavelength
Summary: Crona and Maka had been meeting on the beach at night since they were children. Watched only by the moon, Maka shared with them her dreams to leave their hometown, like her mother before her, and take Crona with her. But eleven years and a few new friends can change a person. Crona's going to run and, this time, Maka can't go with them.





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> Sooooo this is extremely late but I'm finally starting to post it. I haven't been able to write at all recently so it's a wonder I'm actually getting this posted ehehe  
> TheNoctivagant did awesome artwork for this right here!->https://thenoctivagant.tumblr.com/post/176109367208/reverb-2018-the-sea-may-carry-us  
> Also I want to thank Alliope for coming up with the ideas for the fic too (as well as writing the description), but who couldn't finish their art unfortunately.  
> Again I apologize for how late this is hrrrrgfhgj!!!

This time of night, as the sun falls to make way for the moon, is well lit enough for them to stumble their way down the hill, across the deserted beach, and under the creaking, ancient dock that is raised about 5 feet above the ground. The sand is cooling on their toes when they remove their boots, tossing them aside. Locating a shard of driftwood to trace patterns in the sand with, their mind calls upon the creature they encountered in a storybook a few nights ago. It had to be the only book in the house that actually had pictures. Small and twisted, that creature had spent so much time wishing for a friend that they never noticed their own loneliness consuming them until it was too late. They drag the stick across the ground carefully, sketching out a rough estimate of what this creature looked like, before getting frustrated and brushing it away. Instead of attempting more doodles, they only draw a circle around them, plopping down in the middle and lowering their head as night took over.

Maka’s candle flickered violently with the gust of wind. She drew it closer, guarding the flame with her hand, and took cautious steps down the rock path.

As soon as she feels the sand beneath her feet, she glances up, and is met with the last light of the sun. Yellows and purples blend together softly, the light casting itself out over the ocean water as dancing colors within the waves. Maka’s face lights up at the sight, and she sucks a breath in before continuing along the bay, eyes scanning for anything unusual before she reaches the dock. The wind is more forgiving now, fluttering through her hair and no longer threatening to extinguish her light.

The dock is how it always has been, a strong, old monument of her childhood, bringing up memories of when she would play around it with her mother and father nearby. Mom’s gone now. Maka’s still not sure where she went.

She walks between two sturdy poles, imagining it to be the gate to the land of solitude, where she is the princess and absolutely nobody else is allowed in but her-

Except for the lump, apparently. The dark mass, a short distance away, which now appears to be moving, shifting ever so slightly as a strong breeze rushes through. Maka freezes, ready to bolt if it proves itself to be an adult, or even a monster. She is by the ocean, after all, who knows what could crawl out of the deep and hide itself here, under the dock, biding its time until a young, unwitting girl wanders through that it can sink its claws into…

The lump unfolds, falling back and flopping onto the ground, its arms outstretched. Maka flinches, but keeps herself rooted there, picking up on a quiet _"Ow"_ coming from the lump when it hits the ground. In the light of the candle, Maka is able to discern that the lump actually has very pretty pink hair, even if it does appear to be an absolute mess and covered in sand. She takes a cautious step, moving toward what she can assume now is a child about her age, who also seems to be laying within a vaguely drawn circle.

“Who are you?”

The lump child shoots straight up, arms flailing as they screech, only to trip backwards and end up on the ground again. Their eyes meet hers, flashing in the light of the candle, and Maka is reminded of how the sun looked reflected in the bottomless blue water. The child’s breath evens out a bit as they scoot back into the confines of their circle. Receiving no answer, Maka continued.

“I’m Maka, and I want to know just what you’re doing here, if you’re going to stay.” She waves the candle inquiringly in front of their face.

Nothing but a confused blink.

“What are you doing out here after the sun’s gone down?” she pauses, “Like… I know what I’m doing out here after the sun’s gone down, but… you’re just being creepy, curled up under the dock like this.”

“I-I- I’m sorry, I-”

Maka softened when she heard their stuttering, noticing their hands grasping together nervously.

“I was just- just… looking for a place away from everybody else.” They whisper softly, lowering their head.

Setting the candle down, Maka moves forward, hoping to step into the child’s circle. When she was met with a panicked expression, she scoots back again and takes a seat right outside of the line.

“Sorry, I won’t come into the circle if you don’t want me to.”

The silence is filled only with the nearby swish of the tide. Maka looks to the kid several times, hoping with all her heart that they will say something and she won’t be stuck with just digging a hole in the sand with her hands as entertainment. She supposes that if they won’t make conversation, she’ll just have to talk again. She clears her throat.

“D-”

“I’m Crona.”

_Crona_. Her mind fetches for her several images of her dad sitting at the dining room table and the very top shelf of the refrigerator, where she cannot reach.

“Like… the beer?”

“ _What?_ ”

“Never mind.”

Maka tries her luck and scoots closer, just to the edge of the circle.

“What’s this?”

Maka motions toward the lines in the sand from the drawing Crona had failed to completely erase.

“Ohhh, that’s…” Crona lunges to cover it up with their hands.

“…nothing!”

“Were you trying to draw?”

“No, it’s-”

“It looks good! Let me see if I can help.” Maka interrupts, lunging for the driftwood Crona had tossed aside. She studies the drawing for a moment, and then begins to follow the lines of the drawing with the stick, smoothing out the edges and making the little creature clearer.

Maka takes a step back to observe.

“Well, uh…” she notices how mortified the creature looks. Her eyes move over to Crona, comparing the two. There’s definitely a resemblance. 

“I think it just needs a little touch of something else.”

Maka hops up, taking off further down towards the water to root around in the wet sand for seashells. Once she found at least a few of the prettiest ones, she heads back toward Crona and lets them spill onto the ground next to the drawing.

“See, like…” she sorts through them, pausing when she notices the colorful one she picked up, which is splashed with yellows and purples.

“Perfect!” She carefully lays the seashell into the creature’s arms.

“Now they have a friend.”

Crona scoffs.

“A seashell can’t be a friend.”

“Well- just try to imagine that it’s something more.” Maka smooths out part of the face and sketches in a contented smile in place of the frown.

“Hey!” Maka drops back into the sand, startling Crona. Her fingers dig at the edge of the circle.

“Do you think _I_ could be your friend?”

“I don’t have friends.”

“Great, then I can be the first one!” Maka scoops up the other seashells and pours them into Crona’s lap.

“For you!”

Crona takes time to absorb this statement, eyes caught on the darkened waves.

“I guess so.”

A particularly strong breeze comes along from the north and rushes past them, sending chills up Maka’s spine. It snuffs out the candle before Maka can move to protect it.

“Darn it!”

“…aka! Maka!”

“Is that Papa?” Maka stands, straining to listen.

Hearing the shouts become nearer, Maka picks the candle back up and turns toward Crona.

“I’m sorry, I need to go now, Papa’s looking for me.”

Crona shifts and sighs, looking back out over the slowly approaching water.

“It’s okay. I should probably return home too.”

“But I’ll see you again, right?” She chimes, reaching out a finger to poke Crona on the nose. Expecting a definite ‘Yes, of course,’ she is rather unsettled when Crona’s face twists into a spine-chilling smile. Their eyes are blown wide with fear as they chuckle,

“Ahaha, maybe.”

Rooted in place for a moment, Maka only moves once she notices water rushing beneath her feet.

“Oh no, the tide!”

Crona hurriedly stands, water dripping from their dress. The water recedes, snatching up Crona’s circle, along with the seashells, and leaving only smooth, damp sand behind. Crona seems disappointed and Maka takes this as her cue to leave, hearing her father’s shouts much closer this time.

She calls after Crona one last time, “Don’t worry! I’ll see you again, I’ll make sure I do!”


	2. Two

“Last week-”

“Huh?”

“You left this here.”

A candle. She holds it in her hand delicately. 

Last Friday evening, Crona had muttered something about Medusa kicking them the last time they arrived home late and scurried off before Maka could even say goodbye.

“Uhh, I had the idea to carry that after I saw you with one. Y’know,” Crona bowed their head, trying to hide their face.

“Once it gets dark, I trip on things a lot…” They try to explain.

“It doesn’t even have a candle holder, though. You’re gonna get wax on your hands.” She kneeled down next to Crona, grasping their left hand to press the candle into it.

“It went out because I couldn’t lay it in the sand.” Crona makes an attempt to hide the wavering in their voice when Maka’s hand brushes theirs.

“Were you able to see at all when you went home?”

“No.” Crona’s giggle is like a windchime in the ocean breeze.

They both settle into the sand, right where they normally sit during their evening meetings on the beach. This time, Maka had decided to show up a bit early to watch the sunset, and it seemed Crona had the same idea.

“Hey, uh, question.”

“Yea-Y- Yes?” Crona jolts after the silence.

“School started recently, and I uh…” Maka puzzles over something for a moment.

“…Noticed that you weren’t there? I know there’s only one elementary school in this town. I mean, you weren’t there last year either, but I just…”

Crona inhales sharply while Maka continues.

“…Never got the chance to ask why?”

“Homeschool.” Crona’s reply was immediate and almost robotic.

“It’s,” Crona cleared their throat, “Just homeschool. Mother doesn’t let me leave the house often, and so, public school would be out of the question, and-“

“Is it lonely?” She suddenly inquires. Crona doesn’t like where the conversation is headed.

“Lonely? Oh… at home?”

“Without other kids to talk to. Well, of course I don’t really talk to anyone either except-”

_“No.”_ Crona interjects, “Well, m-maybe. Other people scare me a little too much.” Crona hopes Maka will drop the subject, but is alarmed when they see the expression on her face.

“B-but not you! I prefer quiet, where nobody can bother me, and… I can be totally alone. Maka, you-” They are unsure of how to word this, but try to blurt it out anyway before they can regret it.

“You’re the only one on this earth that I really enjoy speaking to.”

All of a sudden, Crona realizes what they said, and they wonder what their mother would think of everything they’ve told Maka so far.

“Uhhgh, I shouldn’t say that, nevermind.”

Maka beams at Crona, but Crona glances down to begin fiddling uncomfortably with the hem on their shorts.

“School isn’t that bad. Sure, there are loud people. Super obnoxious, actually. And… gross lunches. And lots of people that take away your book when you’re ‘not supposed to be reading’. And subjects that even _I_ don’t understand sometimes. But I think I learned recently that…

“There’s always going to be someone that makes everything a lot better. I met this boy named Soul. He doesn’t read.”

Crona sneaks a glance at her. Her eyes are fixed on the waves.

“Or pay attention in class. But…”

Crona wishes that maybe, they could reach out and hold her hand.

“Just like me, before we met each other, we didn’t talk to anyone at that school.”

Crona muses over the thought of being in close quarters with _hundreds_ of other kids around their age. Surely, they would be nothing like any of the others.

“Hm. Making friends sounds too difficult.”

“You made friends with me!” Maka chuckles, bumping them playfully with her shoulder.

“I just got lucky that you happened to talk to me in the first place.”

“All you have to do,” leaning forward and snatching Crona’s hands from the sand’s clutches, Maka holds them up between their bodies and squeezes. Crona’s heart beats a little bit faster.

“Is believe that you can do it.”

“…Believing…?” When Crona reflects on that word, all they can think of is _‘You better believe that you’re not getting fed tonight!’_ or similar variations.

“When I was little, Mama told me that it isn’t hard at all to believe in yourself. I try to remember that when I’m feeling not so good. Mama was always strong, and confident in herself, so I figured I can be like that too. Do you-“

“I guess it’s easier for you. I’ve always hated myself. Ever since I could… hate.”

The light recedes. Maka’s hair, once golden in the sunset, now appears murky and pale. She tries to tighten one of her pigtails and winces, finding a problem with it, and resorts to yanking both hair ties out.

“You- you said- ah- that you weren’t allowed to leave your house very much?” Maka finally gets them both out, chucking them into the wet sand.

“Mother is, uhh, strict. Or at least I think she is, based off of…” they trail off.

“I think that would make her strict. How…” Maka is almost afraid to ask, “How else is she strict?”

“Uhh?”

“Like making you go to bed at a certain time or making you eat everything on your plate. Stuff like that?”

“She doesn’t give me very much to eat.” Crona blurts out.

“She- she, uh- hurts me sometimes when I don’t understand what she’s trying to teach me. And I really _don’t_ understand most of it. When she’s not giving me lessons, I try to… stay out of sight…”

Crona knows that they’ve said too much. Their mother specifically told them to never tell anyone of what happens inside their house. Crona is already breaking many of their mother’s rules by meeting Maka here in the evenings. 

“I don’t want to talk about it anymore. Goodnight, Maka.”

“Wait, don’t-“

She drapes herself over them, trapping them in a bone crushing hug. She lessens her grip when she hears them whimper, and considers pulling away, before Crona’s arms snake around her and give a weak squeeze.

“I’m sorry about this,” she murmurs.

Maka notices Crona’s arms trembling lightly, and it soon spreads to their whole body. Nonetheless, she stays attached, and rubs circles on their back like she remembers her mama doing when she was small.

“Do you not like hugs?”

Crona inhales deeply before replying.

“N-no, it’s okay, I just-”

“We should run away.”

_Away. The only thing that could save them._

_“What?”_

“How about that? Someday, I’ll come rescue you, and we can leave this town together.”

Crona almost seems to be considering this, for a moment. Their head falls onto Maka shoulder and they breathe in, inhaling Maka’s scent of old books and saltwater.

“Not possible.”

“But, why-”

“It just isn’t. It’s a nice idea, but…” Crona ponders all the reasons that this would be a _bad_ idea. Just imagining their mother’s fury is enough to put the idea of leaving out of their head.

Crona is silent after that, taking the time to store the feeling of Maka’s healing hug deep into their brain.

“Oh!” They wrench themselves out of Maka’s grasp in a hurry, taking quick notice of how dark it is already.

“It’s time to go.” Crona looks toward the position of the moon, noticing how much it had changed since night had fallen.

“Uhh, it’s _really_ time to go,” the apprehension in their voice made Maka consider just kidnapping Crona and whisking them away to a far-off town.

“Will you be here next week?” Crona questions, not turning around.

“How about Wednesday night?”

“I’ll see.” Crona was gone again, leaving the candle behind in the sand once more.


	3. Three

The streetlights are hazy on this particular night, with murky clouds rolling in from the south. A thick fog keeps cars off of the streets but it doesn’t keep Crona from sneaking out their window and taking the familiar route down to the dock through the mist.

“I want to run away from this place so _badly._ ” Are Maka’s first words to them after they silently take a seat next to her.

_Away. It’s just too far._

Crona holds their breath until she starts speaking again.

“It’s been on my mind for the past… I don’t know, at least a year? Everything in this town seems to want to crush the soul out of me.”

Crona can’t conjure up a response. They can only recall a time when they fantasized about leaving with Maka to live in a different town where the sun is always shining, and their mother is nowhere near. Nothing like that could ever become reality.

“Everything always seems to be going right, but then it all inevitably blows up in my face.” Maka’s voice is soft now, and dripping with regret.

“I understand.” Crona’s voice is barely a whisper, carried off by the breeze.

“Can I tell you about something that happened?” Maka chokes, letting the sand at her sides slip through her fingers.

“…Of course…”

Before she says anything more, she gently lays her hand over Crona’s.

“We got a letter from my mom in the mail. It was for my dad, but… I opened it. I haven’t heard from her in years. The letter said she’s never coming back.”

“Ah…”

What do you say to someone in this situation? Crona’s mind races, but draws a blank.

“That’s-“

“If I could just get away, I could eventually start my own life. With only the people I _choose_ to involve in it. And it would be far, _far_ away from Papa and everyone at school.”

Maka’s voice is getting heated now, and she digs her boots into the sand furiously. Crona flinches back, removing their hand from hers.

“I know that can’t happen, though. I’m only in middle school. I wouldn’t be able to handle myself, would I?” Tears begin to well up, threatening to spill. She wipes her face with her shirt anxiously.

“No matter how much I tell myself that I’m tough, it doesn’t change the fact that I’m… _not._ ”

Maka picks up a seashell and tosses it toward the water. A brief splash is heard when it hits, then deafening silence.

“Maka?”

They have to tell her something, _anything_ to help ease the doubt.

“Despite that, you’re the bravest person I know.”

They pause for a moment, wanting to plan out what to say, but their next words come out in a ramble.

“I know that doesn’t count for much, cause really don’t know very many people, but you’re the only one I know that deserves to have a happy life.” Crona says exactly what they’re thinking, offering Maka their best smile.

If their mother only knows what’s being said.

Their smile contorts into a grimace.

“I shouldn’t say stuff like that.”

“Thank you anyway.” Her grin holds an underlying grief, but is truly genuine. She can only hold their gaze for a few moments before she peers off into the distance again.

She sighs, “Seems like letters only ever bring bad news.”

The wind is picking up now, pushing the fog out to sea. Maka and Crona shudder in unison, scooting closer to each other, but not quite touching.

“I’m not sure how to make things better.” Crona lets their hand glide closer to Maka’s again, their fingers brushing together lightly.

“But if she doesn’t want to bother coming back for you, then you’re too good for her.”

Crona hears Maka inhale and chuckle, and feels their hands intertwine.

“Thanks for saying that.” Maka squeezes their hand and shifts closer to Crona. Her head falls onto their shoulder, and they both let out a breath neither of them knew they were holding in.

“I just wish telling myself that could take the pain away.”

An abrupt crash of thunder echoes from a distance, and Maka senses wetness on her face. She reaches up to wipe away what she thought was tears before she notices more cool drops falling around her.

“Is it raining?” Crona blinks up at the sky, holding their hands out.

“It is!” Maka shrieks.

All at once, a strong deluge of rain begins to pour down onto them and the both of them scramble to get onto their feet and search for the nearest shelter. 

“Let’s go under the dock!”

The dock offers some protection from the storm, but water is dripping down from between the cracks and wind is blowing the rain at an angle, making it impossible for them to find a place that’s completely dry. A sudden gust makes Maka shiver and rub at her bare arms.

“Are you cold?” Crona asks, concerned. They receive a slight nod for an answer.

Without thinking first, they whip their jacket off and lay it over her head, leaving her face uncovered, and folding it over her shoulders to make sure the wind doesn’t blow it away.

“Crona…” Maka sighs, “Aren’t you cold too? You don’t have to give me this.”

“I want to, though. You’ve, uh…” Crona looks her up and down, taking in how pitiful she looks, like a sad puppy who was left out in a storm.

“You’ve had a bad day…”

“Hey, uh, I know it’s really… _not_ possible,” Maka hesitates for a moment, then asks, “But If I… did leave, would you come with me?”

“Yeah,” Crona reaches out and brushes the hair from her face, wiping away the water along with it, “I would.”

Who cares about Medusa’s wrath when Maka needs them more than anything?

“It _is_ pretty cold out here… let’s wait until the rain dies down a bit, then we’ll head back, okay?”

They wait in a comfortable silence for a while, both of them watching the lightning storm far off in the distance, and Crona secretly imagining bundling Maka up in fluffy, heated blankets somewhere warm and dry.

“Looks like we should probably leave now.” Maka’s voice slices through the stillness, interrupting Crona’s daydream.

“Oh, but, you can have this back.” She removes the jacket and attempts to hand it back to Crona.

“Take it with you.”

“But it’s your jacket! I don’t… know when I’ll see you again, and you’re going to need it. It’s only getting colder outside.” Maka protests, almost forcing it into their hands.

“Then, well… uh…” Crona takes the jacket from her and wraps it around her again, “I can just walk you back to your house. If- if you want.”

Maka’s grin is so bright, they won’t even need a candle to find their way through the storm.

“Yeah… I would like that.”

Maka tries to hide her face from Crona as the tears return to her eyes, snuggling into Crona’s chest and sniffling.

“Hey, don’t cry!” Crona gasps and strokes Maka’s hair, trying to offer some comfort.

“I’m trying not to.” She sputters, and leans into Crona’s touch, “And really… things would be a lot worse without you here.”

Crona barely hears her whisper, “ _Thank you._ ”

Neither of them are bothered by the cold anymore as they walk out from under the dock and up the beach, hand in hand.


End file.
